


Like They Do On The Discovery Channel

by s0ckpupp3t



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, PatD
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Knotting, M/M, Polyamory, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:19:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ckpupp3t/pseuds/s0ckpupp3t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a werewolf is sort of like going through puberty again for Brendon - there was weird hair in unexpected places, he had crazy mood swings, he slept and ate a lot, and sometimes he had no idea whatsoever what was going on with his dick.  An addition to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/13127">That Werewolf!Verse</a> series by dapatty, and a gift for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like They Do On The Discovery Channel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dapatty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/gifts).



_**Like They Do On The Discovery Channel**_  
 **Title:** Like They Do On The Discovery Channel  
 **Fandom:** PATD  
 **Pairings:** Spencer/Brendon; side mentions of Brendon/Sarah and Brendon/Frank (all current)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Werewolf!Fic, polyamory, bondage, knotting, rimming  
 **Word Count:** 5200! The longest fic I've ever written on my own. Because it was MEDICINAL.  
 **Summary:** Being a werewolf is sort of like going through puberty again for Brendon - there was weird hair in unexpected places, he had crazy mood swings, he slept and ate a lot, and sometimes he had no idea whatsoever what was going on with his dick.  
 **Author's Note:** This was written for [](http://dapatty.livejournal.com/profile)[**dapatty**](http://dapatty.livejournal.com/) who wrote the original cracktastic fic in this 'verse, [The Not!fic Where Brendon Was Somewhat Secretly a Werewolf](http://dapatty.livejournal.com/77996.html), while coming down with pneumonia and then SHAMELESSLY EXTORTED ME WITH HER HEALTH, saying that if I wrote her kinky porn in this universe, she might get better. 5k of ridiculous kinky porn, for you, darlin'. Read over by her and [](http://hangemhigh27.livejournal.com/profile)[**hangemhigh27**](http://hangemhigh27.livejournal.com/) , if not exactly betaed.

“Hey, what’s up?” Bob’s voice was cool, smiling.

“Hi, it’s Brendon.”

“I know, man, just, like, spit it out. What are you freaking out about?”

“Is this a good time?” He sounded nervous, even to his own ears.

“Brendon.” Bob sounded incredibly calm and confident. It was soothing.

“Do you-- did you ever-- I’ve been having these stomachaches.” Brendon confessed.

“You’ve been eating meat, right?”

“Bob! I’m not an idiot!” he hissed into the phone. “It’s not like a hungry stomachache, it’s like. Pointy and sad and I kind of want to puke.”

“Okay, okay,” Bob said, low and placating. “When do they happen?”

“I got one when we finished the last leg of the tour a couple weeks ago, and yesterday morning when Sarah went to work, and a while ago after Frank and Mikey came over to give me a wolfwarming party. Is that a real thing, or did they just want to make me watch An American Werewolf In London again?”

“Mmm. Brendon. Do you have... feelings for Frank or Mikey?” Bob asked, totally ignoring that last part. It was probably a stupid question anyway.

“Maybe,” Brendon hedged.

He heard the sound of badly-muffled laughter, then a thump, and Bob clearing his throat.

“Bob!” Brendon sounded a little bitchy now.

“Greedy motherfucker,” Bob said, sounding bemused and slightly less Zen than he had before. “Man, you need a bigger house and a teleporter. So, you and Spencer, huh? And Sarah, of course. And Frank, unless I miss my guess.”

“What? I mean, sure, but what?” Bob couldn’t see the gestures Brendon was making into the phone, but he was pretty sure he could hear them.

His Zen Bedside Manner voice returned. “The good news is, the stomachaches will go away.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“Your inner wolf is just as greedy as you are. It’s telling you who your mates are, and pining when they go away. It’ll get better if you can get, like, a pair of socks or a shirt from... everybody to smell when they’re gone.”

“I...” Brendon stopped. “You’re telling me I’m married to three people and need to start collecting trophy underwear,” he said flatly.

“Underwear would work too. Really sweaty shirts are the best, though. You can keep them in ziplocs to keep the smell.”

“Bob!” Brendon was starting to repeat himself, gestures and all.

“Not married, just. It’s like when you’re in junior high and you have an all-consuming crush on somebody and you can’t eat or sleep, except that’s only happening to part of you. Partly it’ll get better as you learn to separate what parts of you are feeling what, and partly it’ll get better the same way you got out of junior high, with time.”

“I’m married to three people and need to start collecting trophy underwear because I’m going through puberty again?!”

“You got it.” Bob sounded way too fucking calm now. Brendon decided he kind of hated Bob. “Bren-don,” Bob said lightly, almost singsong. “Brennndon?”

Brendon heard someone growling and realized it was him. “Shit. Sorry. Not sure what the next night or so is going to be like.” The full moon was two nights away.

“Do you want my advice?” Bob asked carefully, and Brendon belatedly realized that Bob sounded so calm because he was meditating in preparation for his own shift and felt a wash of cold guilt.

“Yes? Yes, I really do.” Brendon said instead of complaining more, which is what he very badly wanted to do instead.

“Sarah’s going to visit her sister this weekend, right? Send her away a day early, and get Spencer to come over. Your wolf will be soothed, and you’re less afraid of hurting him. When she goes, though, if you get a stomachache, pay attention to how it feels so you recognize it next time, see how long it takes to kick in.” Bob paused. “Then go stick your head in the hamper and see if that helps,” he said, and Brendon could hear the grin.

Suddenly, Brendon felt a lot better. “Yeah! Yeah, okay. I can do that. Thanks, Bob. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“And--”

“Breathe, I know.” He smiled and hung up, sent a text to Sarah and was about to do the same to Spencer, when he stopped, remembering.

He’d done it a lot of times before, but only recently had he done it on purpose. He put his phone down and thought about Spencer. His hair, his eyes, his smile, the sparkly-weird-perfect smell of him, the ways he made Brendon feel calmer, and more excited by turns. The base of Brendon’s spine itched in a way that he’d come to realize meant his tail would be wagging if he had one.

His phone rang. It was Spencer. “Hi!” Brendon said cheerfully, pleased it had worked.

“My nose itches and I can’t bamf over there right now, stop it. How’s eight tonight, will that work?” Spencer sounded pissy, but he was smiling, Brendon could almost smell it.

“Yes, that’d be perfect!” Brendon grinned.

“See you then,” Spencer promised, and Brendon felt better. He tried breathing, jerking off, eating every potato chip in the house, and breathing, in that order. A few months ago, an afternoon like that would have meant he’d had ten bong hits, but he was getting used to the whole new-wolf thing. In some ways, it really was like being a teenager again, except it sucked a lot less.

Not a _whole_ lot less - there was weird hair in unexpected places, he had crazy mood swings, he slept and ate a lot, and sometimes he had no idea whatsoever what was going on with his dick.

  


It was his second post-wolf phone call to Bob when he’d said, “Is anybody else there? Sarah? Spencer?”

“Sarah’s at work, but I can call her home if I need to. Why?”

“I need to tell you some weird shit now, and you probably either want to be alone to talk about it or to hand the phone to somebody else so you can talk about it with them whenever it comes up. Um. Which would you...?”

Bob sounded a little unsettled, and it was freaking Brendon right the hell out. “Bob, just break it to me, am I gonna get hairballs or kidney stones or grow a permanent tail or get distemper, just tell me, please---”

“Oh my god who lets you google this shit unsupervised. No, no, but don’t forget to go in for your rabies boosters, okay, I just need to give you the sex talk.”

Brendon sat down. “Look, I hate to break it to you, Bob, but I’m not a virgin anymore. Please tell me I don’t have to go get neutered or something.”

“No! No. Your dick is just gonna be different sometimes.”

Brendon pulled open his sweatpants to take a look. Everything status quo. He put his hand on it just to be sure. He took a second to breathe. “Different _how_. Sometimes _when_.” He said it carefully.

“So, wolves.” Brendon heard a thump and a muffled sigh on the other end, and he could just see Bob sitting down and rubbing his face, scratching his beard, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When wolves mate.” Bob took a drink of something. “They don’t move a lot, right? Well, they do, but a lot of times, especially afterward, they’ll stay locked together for like half an hour, not moving much.” Bob swallowed again. “Wolves aren’t -- shit, um. They’re not as thrusty as humans, then.”

 _Like us, you mean_ , Brendon wanted to say, then felt his heart sinking. He wasn’t human anymore. Even his dick was some kind of monstrosity. He would never be normal again.

“Brendon?” Bob’s tone had changed completely, from awkwardly informative to super-calm all of a sudden. “Brendon. You hurt my ears when you do that. You need to breathe now, Brendon.”

“Stop--” _saying my name all the time_ , he was going to say, but realized when he said the first word that his throat ached. Maybe that whistly-whimper echo in his ears had been him. “Oh, god.” His skin felt too small.

“Breathe in, Brendon.” He took a ragged breath. “Breathe out, Brendon.” He did, trying not to whistle again. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have... you’re still you, Brendon. You can do this. Breathe in.” Bob sucked air through his nose quietly, then held it. “Breathe out,” he said, on his own exhale. “So. I can finish telling you about this, or we can talk about it later, either way.”

“No, tell me now. I’ll only freak myself out with Google again,” Brendon admitted.

“Okay. Sometimes, particularly during the winter months, there’ll be... wolves and werewolves have a firm swollen area called a knot to...lock them in during mating. Like a, um. Like a plug? It’s not a tumor or anything and it goes down, okay, do not freak out, it’s not some kind of sudden stealth cancer.” Brendon might have been freaking out, but he could recognize the voice of experience at that last bit.

“Nobody told you, huh.” Brendon felt a little better. Bob had gone through this, too, and Brendon wasn’t some kind of oversensitive freak.

“No. Nobody told me anything at first, and I freaked out and attacked a guy, and had to figure out a lot of shit for myself.” He said it matter-of-factly.

“Bob?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Glad to help, man. Just, y’know, pay it forward and don’t fucking bite anybody.”

“You got it.” Brendon hung up.

Since then, Brendon’s knot had only shown up a few times, once in the morning and a couple of times after sex. After sleepily putting his hand down his boxers and screaming his head off (and scaring the shit out of Bogart), he remembered, and the abject terror took care of the erection and the knot that came with it. But after that it was okay. Even if Sarah did kind of poke at it the first time it happened while they were together and go, “I love you, honey, but that’s weird.”

He was all post-coital and snuggly, so he just squeezed it curiously and said, “I know.”

But because his fiancee was _awesome_ , she grinned and said “I wanna try it sometime.”

After the breathing and the potato chips and the jerking off, Brendon was trying to meditate the second time when she came back home, and he opened the door for her. She winced. “I’m still a little creeped out when you do that.”

Brendon bit his lip. “I could stop?”

“No, it’s cute.” She kissed him, warm and soft and smelling perfect. “Spencer coming over soon?”

Brendon thought about it, then sniffed. “I think he’s here, actually.” A knock on the doorframe confirmed it.

Sarah rolled her eyes, turning to hug Spencer hello. “I’m never going to be able to throw a surprise party, am I.”

“Nnooo,” Spencer acknowledged. “But Brendon would totally act surprised if you did.” Spencer’s eyes flicked fondly over to Brendon, who grinned sheepishly.

She reached out and ruffled the hair of both of them. “Okay, I’m gonna go get my bag. One of you get a stopwatch or something.” She came back downstairs with an overnight bag to find Brendon fiddling nervously with his iPhone and Spencer lying on the couch.

She kissed Brendon. “Maybe you won’t even get one. I’m coming back, even your wolf should know that by now.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his furrowed brow, too. “Call if you need anything.”

She gave Spencer a hug and whispered in his ear, even though Brendon could hear her and she knew it. “Give’im hell, tiger.”

She knelt and scratched Bogart behind the ears and said, “And if you two chew up my shoes, you’re buying me new ones.” On her way out the door, she grinned and said, “You boys have fun!”

Brendon hit some buttons on his phone before looking at Spencer, smiling so hard his face hurt, and saying, “I’m _marrying_ her.”

Spencer grinned back, his eyes lighting up, positively sparkling. “Yeah, you are. Married and happily ever after, and I’m throwing you one hell of a decadent supernatural bachelor party.”

Brendon bit his lip, letting himself feel hope that he could have these wonderful things, could keep these people that he and his wolf were so attached to. “I love you, Spence.”

“Love you too.” Spencer smirked. “Come on, let’s play Rock Band until the stomachache hits. I’m putting you on drums and taking bass.”

“You never let me sing,” Brendon pouted.

“That’s cheating,” Spencer said reasonably, and hit some buttons until the xbox did what it was supposed to. They got through four songs before Brendon curled up over the little plastic drum set, whimpering. Spencer pulled his phone from the arm of the couch to check, rubbing Brendon’s back almost absent-mindedly. “Sixteen and a half minutes. Think you can make it upstairs, or am I going to search through the hamper for your fiancee’s gym socks?”

Brendon tried to breathe through his nose and not throw up. “I can do it.” He groaned. “We might just have to do laundry sooner rather than later, jeez.” It felt like Spencer carried him most of the way, sweating and whining, high-pitched and whistly. He sat next to the hamper and Spencer just dumped the contents on his head while he laughed weakly. It smelled right, though, and he snatched a pair of jeans out of the air, rolling with them, pinning them down, raking the denim with his fingers and gnawing on the inside seam. It smelled so _good_ , he didn’t really notice the pain had faded and that he was making a playful growl, rolling in the laundry.

Eventually, though, he did, and looked up. Spencer was giving him an indecipherable look. “I think it works,” Brendon admitted.

Spencer sat down on the floor next to him, picking up a pair of purple socks. “That was...” He didn’t finish, but Brendon had a sneaking feeling that the word ‘adorable’ would have been involved. “Can we play fetch tomorrow night?”

“I am not a puppy!” Brendon spluttered indignantly, trying to decide if he wanted to get the taste of fabric out of his mouth or chew a little more. “I don’t fetch. I practice killing things, Spencer. I might bite you.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and brushed a handkerchief off his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t catch lycanthropy.” Spencer looked unconcerned.

“I have a lifelong condition that turns me into a wild animal and an infectious disease vector one to three nights a month and it might take more than a year for me to learn how to live with the multiple, okay, dual, personality-and-body disorder that will never, ever go away.” He fiddled with a button on a shirt. “I’m not human anymore. I can barely function when someone I love goes away unless I start chewing on their socks! And now I’m a danger to them. To everybody. I don’t want this to happen to you.”

“Bden.” Spencer reached out and took his hand. He spoke slowly and carefully, and he sounded angry. “I’ve never _been_ human. You’re going to keep breathing and get better. You’re not a danger to me because I’ve never been sick with a human disease in my life. It’s only through years of civil goddamn unrest within my community that I can spend my days playing the drums and not following some asshole prince around trying to teach him to tie his fucking shoes so he can marry some inbred in a tiara, alright?” He was fuming.

He even smelled angry. Brendon clutched the shirt with his other hand, fighting the urge to look down at the floor and scoot away, baring his neck.

“Aw, shit.” All of a sudden, he smelled like fear and guilt, cold and bitter and strangely appetizing all at once. “I-- I meant I know what it’s like to not be human, I know it’s not easy, I know what it’s like to have your life subverted when you’re supposed to be sorta kinda normal, and I’m not going to let you bite anyone, not even me.”

Brendon looked up and did not lick the side of his neck where his beard was askew from Spencer rubbing his face, not even a little. He didn’t lick Spencer’s hand, either. Human things. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes thought about human things, like all the best techniques he knew for getting stuck potato chips out of a vending machine, and why you get stickers when you vote but lollipops when you go to the bank, and the Pythagorean theorem, and where stripy paperclips came from. Finally, he said, “I’m glad.” He opened his eyes. “I’m glad you don’t have to teach assholes to tie shoes, and I’m glad you won’t let me bite anyone, and I’m glad I can’t make you sick.”  
Something relaxed in Spencer’s jaw, and he nodded.

“I’m still not playing fetch, though,” he added. Spencer smacked his shoulder peevishly, trying to hide a grin.

“Just for that, I’m going to be extra mean to you tonight.” They stood, putting things back in the hamper while Brendon breathed in Spencer’s changing scent.

He pouted theatrically. “But Spencer, whyever would you be mean to me?”

Spencer tossed a shirt in the hamper and looked at Brendon, walking around him in a half-circle so Brendon had to turn to see him. He did it slowly, deliberately. And Spencer was nice to look at like this, too, his shoulders squared back and his chin pointing down as he looked down at Brendon, stepping forward into his space. It made the hair on the back of Brendon’s neck stand up in the best way.

Then, all of a sudden, he relaxed, grinned, moved back. “I could be nice, I guess, if you wanted.” He shrugged.

Brendon was panting. “You’ve been watching Animal Planet again,” he accused. “Spencer Smith, that is cheating.” Spencer, for his part, just looked wide-eyed and innocent, wrapping his arms around Brendon’s waist and planting his chin on Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon looked at him sidelong, trying not to vibrate out of his own skin with the sudden urges he was feeling. He wanted to sniff Spencer all over, he wanted to bang him senseless, he wanted to nuzzle against him, he wanted to push him down on the floor and growl. He tried to just stay still. “Spencer,” he warned, sounding a little high-pitched. Spencer seemed to understand, inclining his head a little, moving in to nuzzle against Brendon’s cheek and jaw, and Brendon relaxed into it, nuzzling back, until Spencer nosed along his hairline, held him tight, and bit the back of Brendon’s neck.

Brendon yelped, but Spencer hung on -- hung on with his _teeth_ , too, and made a soft little noise like he knew exactly what he was doing biting the scruff of Brendon’s neck and he didn’t want to stop. He shifted to stand more squarely behind Brendon, pulled him in even tighter so he could feel how hard Spencer was, his cock pressed squarely up against Brendon’s ass. His scent filled Brendon’s nostrils, heady and musky and sparkly. Brendon clenched his hands in thin air, finally bracing one arm against the wall.

“God,” he panted, and Spencer relaxed his jaws, licking the skin he’d bitten raw. He just lapped at it, his tongue hypnotically rhythmic as he unbuttoned Brendon’s pants and squirmed his hand into his briefs.

“Shit, Brendon.” His voice was soft, low, dangerous-sounding. “You already come today?”

“Yeah,” Brendon said fuzzily, way too turned-on to get the point. “Oh. Oh, no.” He stuck his hand down his pants along with Spencer’s, feeling the swollen knot. Bob had said it’d happen more in the winter months, and Brendon had just been trying not to think about it too hard.

“Stop freaking out,” Spencer murmured calmly, low and buzzy right in Brendon’s ear. “I want to try something.”

“Like what?” Brendon asked nervously, prodding carefully with his fingers as his dick softened a little, completely reasonable in the face of _Aaaugh, something is weird in my pants and my boyfriend has an idea for an ‘experiment’_. If you asked him.

“Is it really going to be that difficult to get you naked?” Spencer slipped his hand away, nibbling Brendon’s ear to distract him from how he was carefully unzipping his trousers.

“Maybe!” Brendon blushed, cupping himself protectively, doing up the zipper again.

“But you’re gonna let me convince you?” Spencer let his hands roam up to stroke Brendon’s belly, and he was starting to smell different. Really, really tasty. What was he thinking? Whatever it was, it was new. It was kind of sweaty and spicy and excited. Brendon wanted to lick him everywhere he smelled like that.

“Maybe...” he trailed off, interrupting himself, too curious. “Spencer, what--” and Spencer took off running down the stairs, running and laughing and _running_. Brendon tailed him without a thought, racing after him into the kitchen and pinning him against the refrigerator, sniffing him delightedly all over. “Spence, Spence, I changed my mind, we can play fetch tomorrow if you’ll play hide-and-seek too, oh my god you smell so _good_ when you do that, did you know, mrrfrrl,” he wound up making a happy noise deep in his throat, sniffing Spencer’s neck while he giggled, squirming away from the fridge.

“I have to do research more often,” Spencer laughed exuberantly, and pushed him away gently before he tore off back upstairs, Brendon following him, realizing halfway there that his tongue was hanging out and he didn’t care one bit. Spencer was on the bed only seconds before Brendon pounced on him and rolled, getting a flash of deja vu from the laundry not an hour before. Except, of course, Spencer smelled so much more exciting, was so much warmer, harder, noisier, and his jeans were far from empty. He wound up on his back, hands full of Spencer’s ass, rutting up against him. Spencer pulled Brendon’s shirt off, smiling, then reached for his pants.

At the point where Brendon would ordinarily have been helpful, wriggling out of the whole kit and caboodle, he looked up, biting his lip. “Brendon.” Spencer looked back down, fondly. “B, there is nothing wrong with you. You are a normal,” Brendon raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but Spencer continued, “a normal, healthy werewolf, and I love--” he kissed Brendon on the lips, “--every part of you.”

Brendon kissed him back, letting himself get distracted by Spencer’s lips, the soft scratch of his goatee, the way he still smelled like adrenaline and was smelling more and more like sex every second on top of it. Spencer sucked on his tongue, and Brendon’s breath caught. Spencer pulled away, finally, looking at Brendon intently. “So you’re gonna be mean to me, huh?” Brendon asked, pretending to consider it.

Spencer nodded, and he looked wickedly debauched. He’d thrown laundry around and run up and down stairs and rolled and been pounced by Brendon, and it suited him, put color in his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes. Brendon shivered, looking at him. Beautiful, magical -- literally magical -- and Brendon’s.

He gave Brendon a quiet smile. “I think you’ll like it.” How Brendon was supposed to argue with that, he didn’t know. His wolf wasn’t being helpful in that department, trying to get him to focus on why the belly rubs and chasing games had stopped and making him wonder if he should roll over to mate. Well, maybe that wasn’t just his wolf. Spencer leaned over, fumbling in the bedside drawer until he came out with a pair of thick leather handcuffs. “We can use these, or you can hang on to the headboard.” Brendon sat up, considering, then bit his lip and held out his wrists.

Spencer buckled them on carefully. The quiet pinging sound of the metal hardware echoed in Brendon’s ears, reminded him of all the times these cuffs and Spencer had held him tight. “Turn?” He asked, nodding towards the rungs of the headboard. Brendon nodded and flipped around, kneeling on the bed, reaching up to steady himself. He looked over his shoulder to Spencer, who slid a hand up Brendon’s back, over his shoulder, down his arm to his wrist, soothing. Only then did he reach out to connect the cuffs together behind the center rung, the connector sliding into place with a satisfying click. Brendon closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sound. He was safe now, in control and controlled.

Spencer made a soft, pleased hum, sliding his hands back down over Brendon’s skin until his fingers drifted over the waistband of his pants. He undid the fly, again, pulling pants and briefs down to Brendon’s knees and off. He scooted back up behind Brendon, then, digging in his pocket for something and then bending forward, reaching for Brendon’s dick. Brendon looked down to see what he had in his hand. It smelled familiar, sort of rubbery, and he saw it, a cock ring, dark, stretched between Spencer’s fingers. He smiled at the now-familiar sight, lifting his hips so Spencer could put it on, tucking it snug and comfortable behind Brendon’s balls. He wasn’t all the way hard again yet after the chase, but he was close and his knot was definitely showing. It was weird, watching Spencer touch it. It was his, but not his, and not his hands. Good hands, though, calloused and quick. One went away and came back slick and shiny, and then everything was too good to be weird. Until Spencer got his thumb and forefinger circled around the base of Brendon’s shaft and slid forward slow and tight until they ran into the knot, and then he squeezed, gently but deliberately, and Brendon’s eyes crossed. The noise that came out of his mouth was a surprised grunt, and Spencer eased off almost immediately.

Brendon leaned forward, moaning at the sensations that rocked through him. “I thought so,” Spencer murmured, and did something with his pocket again, stretching another ring between his fingers before Brendon had really processed what was going on. And then he was sliding it over the head of Brendon’s cock, down the shaft, over the knot, and stopping, letting go, leaving the centimeter of silicone banded right at the beginning of it, just where his fingers had been, and Brendon was reeling, shuddering, curled over.

“Spence, Spence, shit,” he breathed, blinking through the spots that clouded his vision. He was sure that if he hadn’t had the other ring on, he’d have come, then and there. He’d lost track of Spencer, though, and he’d moved, his hands on Brendon’s ass and then his tongue, _his tongue_ , hot and wet and incredibly fucking good, flicking over Brendon’s asshole, then licking firmer, deeper. “Oh no, oh god, Spence, I can’t take it, your tongue, I’m gonna come, and die, and I don’t even know if it’ll be in that order, fuck,” Brendon said, and more stupid things besides. It was like Spencer had cut the filter between his brain and his mouth completely, and didn’t care, and decided to chuck out Brendon’s language centers too, because he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop at all, and Brendon was left making embarrassingly loud, helpless, on-the-brink noises for what seemed like three years until Spencer pulled away.

“I think you can,” he said, almost calm-sounding. Brendon had no idea what he was talking about, only that his voice was low and rumbly. “I think you can take it. You can hold on while I fuck you, can’t you, Brendon?”

The sound Brendon made in response was not entirely human, and it freaked him out a little, but Spencer just waited, his fingers calmly stroking Brendon’s hip, letting him breathe, waiting until he found words. “I-- I don’t think I’ll last thirty _seconds_ if you fuck me, but I want you to, god, so much.”

Fingers dug into Brendon’s skin, Spencer steadying himself. “Christ, I wish you could see you, so fucking hot like this, you have no idea.” Slick little noises followed, Spencer lubing up. “Like this?” he asked breathlessly, nudging against Brendon’s opening, such a tease, but he was really asking. He’d pull back and open Brendon up more with his fingers or tongue or both, but every nerve and fiber of Brendon was screaming for it.

“Please, now, Spencer, please,” he managed, and Spencer pressed against him, wet but blunt and hard. For a split second it was raw and wrong, then he angled down and slid inside, and it was exactly right. Brendon’s fingers clenched around the headboard. He felt so full, so close, so good, Spencer’s smell filling his senses.

Spencer moved cautiously, warming Brendon up, and he braced for it, back bowed and shoulders tense, little whimpering gasps escaping from his throat. Spencer nudged a little deeper inside. “Yes,” Brendon hissed, pushing back against him, stretching his arms and pulling against the cuffs. “Yes, c’mon, I need you, so close.”

“You-- shit, feel so good -- weren’t kidding, were you?” Spencer said, a little choked-sounding, as he worked up to a rhythm.

“No, Spence, god, please, give it to me,” Brendon whimpered.

“Yeah,” Spencer panted, and grabbed on tight to Brendon’s hips, thrusting fast and shallow, and then hard and deep, slamming his hips into Brendon’s ass again and again.

Brendon didn’t know how long it’d been, but he was going to keel over if he didn’t come soon, and Spencer got a hand on his cock, reaching down low to loop his fingers around Brendon’s knot, right behind the ring. He slid his fingers past it and squeezed, then started jerking Brendon off and that was it, Brendon was gone. There was nothing but the red darkness behind his eyes and the white-hot pleasure shooting down his spine and Spencer, fucking him through it all. He would have bucked and squirmed, but Spencer put a strong hand low on his back and bent him down, bowed his spine towards the mattress and made him take it, made him keep taking it until Spencer thrust deep and stayed there, coming. Brendon slumped gratefully into the shape he’d been pressed into, his head falling down onto the pillows, the heels of his hands pulling against the cuffs. He groaned, replete. It had been a weird day, but he’d been soothed and led on a chase and tied down and pinned down and fucked by Spencer, and he could smell Spencer’s come inside him, blending with his own scent and making both of them smell sparkly.

Spencer collapsed, sweaty, on top of Brendon, sloppily kissing his shoulder. He only stayed for the space of a few breaths, then pulled out and flopped forward beside Brendon to separate the cuffs from the headboard and each other. He wrapped his arms around Brendon and just pulled him onto his side, holding him close and burying his nose in the nape of Brendon’s neck. They stayed like that for a long time, Brendon wrapped in cuffs and Spencer’s arms, reassured. He would change tomorrow, but everything else would stay the same.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://dapatty.livejournal.com/profile)[**dapatty**](http://dapatty.livejournal.com/)who wrote the original cracktastic fic in this 'verse, [The Not!fic Where Brendon Was Somewhat Secretly a Werewolf](http://dapatty.livejournal.com/77996.html), while coming down with pneumonia and then SHAMELESSLY EXTORTED ME WITH HER HEALTH, saying that if I wrote her kinky porn in this universe, she might get better. 5k of ridiculous kinky porn, for you, darlin'. Read over by her and [](http://hangemhigh27.livejournal.com/profile)[**hangemhigh27**](http://hangemhigh27.livejournal.com/), if not exactly betaed.


End file.
